“Yes,” replied Buller; “it seems rum, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know why it should. I am sure I am very glad, old fellow, for I know that you wished it.”
“Well, yes I did. I am uncommonly fond of cricket, don’t you see, and have tried hard to improve.”
“That you must have done, by Jove! But how was it?”
“Well, Robarts said something to Crawley, and Crawley came up to me the day before yesterday and said he had heard that I could bowl a bit; would I come and give him a few balls. So I went and bowled to him for an hour, and the result was that he called a house meeting, and I was put into the eleven.”
“You will be in the school eleven next year, you see.”
“I don’t know,” replied Buller; “it depends on how I get on, you know. I might make a regular mull of it.”
“Bosh! not you; you have gone on improving too steadily for that,” said Penryhn confidently. “This is one of the milestones the chap comes to; he will be here presently if we wait. What’s the row over there?”
“Oh! one of those men with images, and some of our fellows, Saurin, Edwards, and that lot, chaffing him.”
An Italian with a large tray of plaster of Paris figures on his head was tramping from one town to another, and seeing the groups of boys gathered in different parts of the road, thought he might do a stroke of business, so taking down the tray he solicited attention.